Firsts
by zelda49
Summary: A series of moments in Mac and Stella's relationship.
1. First Hope

A/N: I thought I'd be taking a break after finishing _It Could Happen to You_, but apparently Mac and Stella have different ideas ;) Because they didn't get as much airtime as I had wanted to give them in my last fic, I decided to try my hand at a little series that featured just the two of them in a string of important moments in their relationship. This first one is actually my take on their encounter at the end of the season 1 finale _What You See Is What You See_, but the rest will be original—this just seemed like the perfect place to start :) As always, let me know what you think, and enjoy!

For Mandi

* * *

She noticed the way he looked at her when she walked into his office and felt strangely self-conscious. "You like it?" Stella asked cheerfully instead, gesturing to the little black dress she wore, hoping to cover up her embarrassment. "Hopefully my date will too…"

They chatted for a few minutes before Mac rose from his chair and removed his holster from his belt, locking his gun in his desk drawer. "Tonight…there's someplace I gotta be."

Stella looked at him incredulously. Mac Taylor, the workaholic, was actually leaving the lab at a decent hour?

He smiled, and the smile was tinged with a faint sadness as he avoided her eyes for an instant. "I think it's time."

It was then that she realized he was talking about moving on after Claire's death, about going out again, about seeing Rose, the woman he'd met at the coffee shop. Stella regarded him for a moment, relief mixed with happiness creeping in along the edges of her thoughts. This was healthy for him. No more wallowing, no more working without sleeping…at least for one night. She wondered, too, if this Rose knew how lucky she was to meet a man like Mac.

Stella shook herself mentally and moved around the desk toward him. "Here…let me fix your tie…"

Mac smiled again and allowed her to reach for him, his eyes meeting hers briefly, questioningly, when she began unknotting his tie rather than adjusting it. The faintly sad smile returned to his lips and his eyes darted away again as her hands moved.

Her own eyes flickered between his face and his tie, her brain going a million miles a minute as she worked. It felt good to touch him, even if it was only her fingers grazing his throat, and the self-conscious feeling she had experienced earlier returned. Her lips twitched as she slid the tie from his collar and opened the top button of his shirt, glancing quickly into his blue eyes.

Stella patted his lapel gently as she stepped away. "There…"

Mac looked into her eyes once more and smiled appreciatively, unable to articulate his thoughts. But after knowing each other for so long, she could read the expression on his face and smiled back a "you're welcome", brushing her hand over his cheek. At that moment in time, her face betrayed her, and if he had been paying just a bit more attention he would have seen it.

Stella was in love with Mac.

She stepped away from him, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence as her poise returned. "Have a good time," she called over her should as she left his office.

She made it all the way to the locker room before she allowed herself to process what had happened. She had always been fond of Mac, cared for him like she had for no one else in the world. Little by little she had discovered that "cared for" had grown into "loved", but she had never acted on it, knowing that if the two of them were ever to be together it would have to be when they were both ready. With Mac still grieving for Claire, he had definitely not been ready.

But tonight, he had proclaimed in the muted tones of his blue eyes and shy smile that he _was_ ready, or at least beginning to consider the idea. In time, he would be able to date again, to have a relationship again with some fortunate woman. It was Rose he was going to see at the moment, but in his office the look in Mac's eyes had given Stella something to hold onto while she waited for him, to help her through the twinges of jealousy she felt when she thought of him with another woman.

Tonight, he had given her hope that someday he would be ready to take the next step, and that _she_ might be the one he stepped with.


	2. First Feelings

A/N: One more chapter for you because I ate way too much sugar today and can't sleep. Future updates probably won't be coming this quickly, though...Monday the new semester starts at school, and I'm back to being a math teacher for a while ;)

* * *

He knew something was different the moment he walked into her apartment.

The analytical part of Mac's brain automatically stepped up and began trying to figure out what it was. His eyes swept Stella's living room as he pulled his coat off and handed it to her, and continued sweeping when he followed her over to the couch.

"Mac?" she asked, noticing his attention was elsewhere. "You okay?"

He shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs from his mind and smiled apologetically. His intent observation had not been very subtle. "Sorry. I just can't seem to turn my brain off."

Stella grinned. She had recognized the expression on his face and knew he was trying to solve some puzzle that he wasn't able to let go of. "It's okay," she told him with a wink. "You wouldn't be Mac Taylor if you weren't trying to solve the mysteries of the universe."

She rose from the couch and sauntered into the kitchen, leaving Mac alone with his thoughts.

_I've been here millions of times_, he reflected. _Stella's made dozens of dinners for me…so what's different about this one?_

He watched her putter around the kitchen, a small smile perched on her lips as she pulled ingredients from the cupboards, her hair bouncing as she moved, and shook his head faintly. He was never going to figure out what was going on if he kept focusing on Stella.

Mac stood and made his way into the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. "Need any help?" he asked. If he couldn't solve his mystery, then the least he could do was lend a hand with the meal.

"Yeah," Stella replied. "C'mere and chop this garlic."

He took the knife she handed him and noticed a tingle where her fingers brushed against his. His heartbeat quickened slightly and he hurriedly turned his attention to the garlic. _What's going on with me today?_

He chopped carefully, watching her stir the cream sauce she was making out of the corner of his eye, still puzzling over the difference of this visit.

"Okay, Mac, this is ready for the garlic," she informed him, interrupting his ruminations.

"Right." She moved aside and he threw the garlic into the saucepan. "Enough?"

She shook her head with a twinkle in her eye. "More."

"More?" he questioned. He had dumped a fair amount of garlic into the pan already.

She nodded. "More. I have some mints in my purse if you're planning on kissing me later," she laughed.

He chuckled, chopping another half-clove of garlic as an image floated through his mind of Stella's lips meeting his. The sensation of her breath against his skin that accompanied the vision was so real his knife faltered and he narrowly missed chopping his finger off.

"Whoa Mac! What's up with you tonight?" she smirked, taking his hand in hers and inspecting it for cuts. Finding none she released it, allowing him to toss the remaining garlic into the saucepan.

"I don't know," he told her, marveling at the fact that he could still feel her hands on his, gently probing, carefully checking for injury, even after she let go. "Maybe I better do something that doesn't involve sharp implements."

Stella laughed. "Wanna set the table? Plates are over there…" she pointed to the cupboard over her head.

"Good idea," he replied with a chagrined smile. He reached above her and flipped open the cabinet door, grabbing two plates and cautiously pulling them out without hitting her on the head.

She giggled at his watchfulness and patted him on the shoulder as he passed her on his way to the table. "Nicely done."

Mac stopped cold for just a fraction of a second, the circuits of his mind on the verge of overloading at her touch combined with the hint of perfume that tickled his nose. His legs carried him to the table on autopilot, and his hands placed the plates in front of the chairs without a conscious thought. When his brain finally did restart itself, he had only one coherent thought.

_Stella never wears perfume at the lab…_

The rest of the evening was a blur for him, a jumble of sparkling eyes and soft skin and brilliant smiles. They ate, they laughed, they talked, they settled on the couch after dinner and watched some cheesy movie on TV. And through it all, Mac could only focus on Stella.

By the time he left her apartment that night, his senses were thoroughly wrung out. He climbed into the driver's seat of his car and sat still for a moment, trying to make his head stop spinning.

"Wow," he said out loud to himself. "That's the first time I've ever felt like that around Stella. That's the first time I've felt that way at all in a long time. Not since…" his voice trailed off as he tried to remember the last time he had felt so mentally breathless around a person. Then it clicked. "Not since Claire."

Was that it? Was he really saying that Stella made him feel the way Claire had?

"That can't be right…"

But it was. He had finally solved the mystery. It wasn't _exactly_ the same feeling Claire had given him, but it was similar enough that he recognized it for what it was. He had always cared for Stella—they had been close friends almost from the day they met—but never did he imagine her as a romantic interest. Yet here he was, desperately trying to make his mind work normally again after an evening spent in close proximity with her, something that had only ever happened to him when he fell in love with Claire.

He shook his head and turned the key in the ignition. He couldn't be in love with Stella. He wasn't ready for a relationship with anyone—his date with Rose the previous week had taught him that. He shook his head again, trying to clear the cobwebs from his brain, and pulled out of his parking space as he tried to banish any romantic thoughts of his friend and partner.

But when the sound of her voice resonated in his mind's ear

"_I have some mints in my purse if you're planning on kissing me later."_

he smiled happily.


	3. First Touch

His stomach growled.

Mac had been working non-stop, as per his usual routine, for most of the day without eating. As he stood in the Trace Lab now, examining a piece of evidence for the millionth time, his empty stomach rumbled loudly and reminded him that food was indeed necessary to life—even his.

Standing beside him, Stella giggled. "What'd ya do, swallow a bear? That was loud!"

He smiled shyly, something he had only recently begun doing around her. "I guess it's been a while since lunch."

"Yeah, it has," she agreed, glancing at her watch. "Wanna go grab something when we finish up here?"

His smile widened a bit and he nodded. "Yeah—at that little Greek place you keep talking about. I haven't had a decent gyro since I served in Greece with the Marines."

"You're gonna love it," she grinned. "They have the best baklava…"

Together they finished up their latest round of examination, then carefully packed up the evidence and returned it to the storage locker. Exchanging their lab coats for overcoats, they proceeded out of the lab, arguing playfully over who was going to drive.

"I'll drive," Stella insisted. "I know where the place is."

"Are you sure you want to drive at all?" Mac asked. "It's harder to find a parking place in Manhattan than it is to find a Detroit Lions fan at the Super Bowl."

She laughed. "No kidding. But it's too cold to walk and I don't feel like dealing with the subway today."

They continued to discuss their means of transportation, but Stella eventually won out—partly because she was stubborn and partly because Mac liked to let her have her way, eventually—and drove the two of them to her favorite little Greek restaurant.

"Today must be our lucky day," she smiled delightedly, eyeing a parking space only a few blocks from their destination.

She expertly pulled the SUV into the tight spot and hopped out. He followed quickly behind, catching up with her when she paused at an intersection. Like a true New Yorker, she didn't pause long, waiting only until Mac stood beside her before taking off across the street.

"Come on, Mac," she directed, taking his arm when he attempted to look for traffic.

He chuckled. "Old habits die hard. I'm still not used to just walking out in traffic."

They made it safely across the intersection and continued toward the restaurant, but Stella didn't let go of Mac's arm as he had expected she would.

_Is this too weird for him? _she wondered, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye._ It was only a couple of weeks ago that he was saying how awkward he felt on his date with Rose. This isn't a date, of course, but I've never held his arm like this before…_

For his part, Mac found himself trying to smother a pleased smile. _This should feel weird, _he thought._ Stella's never taken my arm before. But it isn't weird. It actually feels normal…and kind of nice._

They arrived at the restaurant and she did finally let go, but only when she walked through the door as he held it open for her, glancing at him again out of the corner of her eye and trying to read the expression on his face.

Dinner was pleasant enough, like it always was when they ate together. Both were tired from the long day, and neither expected to stay long, but several hours passed in the blink of an eye and still they sat in their comfortable booth.

_She hasn't touched me again all night, _Mac noticed with a bit of displeasure as he sipped his coffee._ I wonder why…_

Stella noted the "thinking look" on his face and smiled. _What's he thinking about? How I took his arm on the way in? He hasn't touched me at all since then…I wonder if I _did_ spook him a little…_

Finally they decided to call it a night and head home, since both had to be up early for their shift in the morning. Stella paid the check—"I asked you to dinner, remember?"—and led Mac out of the restaurant. He held the door for her as he had on the way in, and walked beside her down the block toward the car, waiting to see if she was going to take his arm again.

They reached the first intersection and he unconsciously held his breath, anticipating her touch with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. They crossed the street quickly, side by side but without contact, and Mac found himself feeling disappointed.

_Doesn't she want to touch me? _he thought._ Or was the earlier instance just Stella's way of hurrying me up? Maybe she didn't mean anything by it at all…_

Another voice in his head cut him off. _You think too much, Mac. You want Stella to touch you? Then do something about it._

He considered that idea for a moment, suddenly realizing the second voice was right. He _was_ over thinking the situation. Did he want Stella to touch him? Yes. Why, he didn't know, still refusing to believe he might be in love with her, but it didn't matter. He reached across his body and took her hand, wrapping it around his upper arm with a small smile.

She grinned, surprised but thrilled at the same time as she tightened her grip on him and pulled him close beside her.

His smile widened and he rubbed his free hand over hers. _Now _this_ is the way it's supposed to be._


	4. First Acknowledgement

Mac tossed his keys on the kitchen counter as he walked tiredly through the door of his apartment. It had been a long shift and he was looking forward to catching a few hours of shuteye before his next one began in the morning.

"Or later _this_ morning," he corrected himself out loud, glancing ruefully at his watch. He shrugged off his coat and dropped it into a chair, wandering into the bedroom to change out of his work clothes and into something more suitable for sleeping.

Attired in his favorite pair of sweat pants and an old Marine Corps sweatshirt, he went back out into the living room and plopped down on the couch, flipping on the TV to try and find something to take his mind off his latest slew of cases. As he channel surfed, he discovered an old, cheesy, made-for-TV movie that made him smile. It was the kind of movie that Stella would have turned on then proceeded to mock had she been there, making Mac grin like an idiot or even coaxing some laughter from his lips.

He sat back on the couch and allowed his smile to soften, his mind's eye picturing Stella beside him making fun of the movie. He could see her bright eyes and bouncing curls, hear her cheerful laughter, could almost feel her skin against his as she reached out for him in his imagination. He found himself grinning and discovered that his cheeks were becoming warm, a phenomenon that didn't occur very often. Self-consciously turning his attention back to the television, he draped his arm along the back of the couch, idly wondering how it would have felt to wrap that arm around Stella. He pictured her curled up next to him, her head leaning against his shoulder, her hand resting on his chest.

Mac suddenly wanted very badly for Stella to be there, practically aching for her presence, and was almost overwhelmed by the feeling. He sat straight up and ran a hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I _just_ saw her," he told himself out loud. "How can I be missing her so much already?"

Before the words were even out of his mouth he knew the answer, and he shook his head again.

"No," he said, trying to be emphatic but failing miserably. "I am _not_ in love with her."

But even as he spoke he knew the statement was untrue.

A giddy feeling began to wash slowly over him, his lips twitching into a reluctant grin as he allowed thoughts of Stella to re-enter his mind—how smart and quick witted she was, how dry her sense of humor could be, how her eyes flashed when she was hot on the trail of evidence. He desperately wished she was there with him, wanting nothing more in the world than to hold her, to kiss her, to love her.

He sighed, the grin still plastered on his face. "Okay, I give up. I admit it…I love Stella."

Mac chuckled in an embarrassed way, combing his fingers through his hair as he rose from the couch and moved toward the phone.

"I know she's up," he told a lamp as he passed it. "She just finished the same shift I did, and I have to see her."

He reached for the phone, pulling it off its cradle to dial Stella's number, but paused midway, catching a glimpse of a photograph sitting in a simple gold frame next to the telephone. It was the only photo he had in the apartment of Claire, the one Stella had convinced him to put out where he could see it when the pain of his grief had receded to a more bearable degree.

He picked up the picture and dropped into the nearest chair, still holding the receiver of the phone. His eyes focused on the photo, staring intently at the only woman he thought he'd ever love, and just as quickly as the giddy feeling had appeared, it fled, replaced by intense pangs of guilt.

"Claire," he whispered, "the love of my life…how could I ever be with anyone else?"

He sat for a long time, holding both the picture of Claire and the telephone in his lap, his eyes moving from one to the other, trying to force himself to chose between his dead wife and his best friend.

"I can't do it," he confessed hoarsely. "I can't love Stella because that's betraying Claire, but I can't live in the past forever either…"

He sighed again, heavily this time, placing the phone and photograph back in their original positions. Standing motionless, he continued to stair at the two objects for a moment longer before finally tearing his gaze away.

"Nothing in life is ever easy," he frowned. But he knew that wasn't true.

Loving Claire had been easy.

Loving Stella, no matter how much, would not be.


	5. First Kiss

A/N: I thought I'd post this one in celebration of the snow day we're having tomorrow (yay! I get to sleep in past dawn!)...also because secret4eyes asked so nicely, and so AliasCSINYFriendsER doesn't have to wait so long ;) Enjoy!

* * *

Stella sat on the bench in the locker room and surveyed her haul. Her colleagues had been kind to her on her birthday, as they had every year she had worked at the lab. There were cards and flowers, the Crime Lab photo album one of the techs had put together for her, the day at the spa from Lindsay, the tickets to the theater from Danny, and even a boxed set of Bon Jovi's greatest hits—her favorite band—from Sheldon Hawkes. She smiled as her eyes drifted over to the half-eaten birthday cake someone had brought in from a little mom-and-pop bakery nearby, recalling her friends crowding around her and singing _Happy Birthday_ with more gusto than Pavarotti hitting a high note. 

The smile faded a bit, and she sighed. Mac had been there, of course, because he was both the head of the lab and Stella's best friend. He had only stayed long enough to chat with a few people and eat a piece of cake, though, sliding his had across her back and whispering "happy birthday, Stella" in her ear before disappearing again, muttering something about a case that couldn't wait. She knew it wasn't an excuse, that there really _was_ a case that couldn't wait just because it was her birthday, but the words had sounded hollow when he spoke them.

"I don't know what I expected," she said out loud to herself. "It's not like he was going to profess his undying love for me in front of all those people…"

Her voice trailed off and she sighed again, staring at the cake a moment longer before moving to gather her gifts together for the trip home.

"That was quite a sigh," a male voice informed her as she packed.

Stella straightened up and turned to find Mac standing in the entrance to the locker room. "Hey Mac," she greeted him, a bit of the smile returning to her face.

"Everything okay?" he asked, moving closer to the bench where she sat.

She watched him approach and nodded slowly. "Yeah, everything's fine. It's just been a long day."

He sat down beside her and nodded himself. "That it has," he agreed. He watched her as she resumed collecting her presents, marveling at how his heart was already beating nearly out of control just because he was next to her. "Can I offer you the chance to make it a little longer?"

Her smile grew with curiosity. "How?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I didn't really get to celebrate with you yet," he replied, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks. "Will you let me take you out to dinner?"

She contemplated his offer, her eyes focusing on the stack of birthday cards at her feet. She leaned down and reached for the cards, picking them up and stuffing them tiredly into her bag. "I don't think so, Mac," she told him, her curls moving gently with the shaking of her head. "I don't really feel like going out tonight."

"Oh," he responded softly. "Okay." He was disappointed, and showed it much more than he realized, to Stella's surprise.

"But why don't you come over and watch a movie with me at home?" she asked. "We'll find something stupid on TV and make some popcorn…just the two of us. What do you say?"

"That's what you want to do for your birthday?"

"Yep. Take it or leave it," she winked.

He grinned. "I'll take it."

Mac helped Stella carry her things out to the car and drove her home, once again gathering the birthday gifts together to take them inside when they arrived. Stella immediately went to look for a vase for the flowers and Mac found himself holding the bag full of cards and presents, along with the half-eaten birthday cake.

He set the items on the kitchen table and pulled off his overcoat, picking up the cake and taking it into the kitchen where he found a container to store it in. A little further hunting produced the package of popcorn Stella had mentioned, and in a moment's time it was popping energetically in the microwave. He surveyed the kitchen and, deciding that everything was in order, moved into the living room and settled himself on the couch.

Stella returned with a vase she had found buried in a storage closet somewhere, smiling brightly as she filled it with water and arranged her flowers. "There," she said when she was satisfied. "Aren't they beautiful?"

Mac looked over from his place on the couch and smiled back. "Beautiful flowers for a beautiful woman," he replied.

She laughed. "What a line! Did you get that one from Danny?"

"No," he said slowly, his own mouth curving into a soft smile. "I meant it."

She parked herself next to him on the couch, her eyes twinkling. "Really?" she asked, a bit of shyness creeping into her voice.

He moved closer to her, reaching inside his suit coat and pulling out a small, black, velvet box. "Really," he replied, smiling as he set the box on her knee.

Her eyes focused on the box, then shifted to Mac, the astonishment clearly written on her face. "For me?"

He nodded, his own eyes sparkling mirthfully, almost teasingly. "For you."

"O-okay…" She picked up the box a little hesitantly and lifted the lid, the astonishment quickly turning to outright shock at what she saw. "Oh, Mac…" A pair of small diamond earrings glittered up at her, and she momentarily lost her powers of speech.

Seeing her difficulties, he chuckled and spoke instead. "Do you like them?" he asked.

She nodded, tearing her gaze from the earrings to train it on her partner. "They're…gorgeous…"

His grin widened and he leaned in, kissing her gently on the cheek. "Happy birthday, Stella."

She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of his lips on her skin. A moment later he did it again, and this time he didn't pull away. Her cheek rested against his and she could feel his hand brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, her whole body tingling from excitement and anticipation.

Mac felt the energy emanating from her and allowed his heart to dictate his movements, managing to quiet his brain for at least a little while. His hand traveled from her forehead across her face, caressing her cheek tenderly as his lips brushed tentatively over hers. He heard her breath catch in her throat and his eyes flickered open briefly, noticing her elated expression. Assured his advances were being well received, his eyes closed again and he smiled as he slowly kissed her, allowing himself to enjoy the feeling of Stella's mouth on his.

When they broke apart, neither spoke but both shared the same thought. Moving in concert with each other, they curled up blissfully together on the couch, her head against his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around her, the popcorn in the microwave all but forgotten.


	6. First Date

A/N: I finished this one up this afternoon and wanted to get it posted before I headed off on my little mini-vacation to Manhattan this weekend (I'm so excited! lol). It's going to be cold, but it'll be worth it. And with any luck, I'll come back with lots of ideas for Mac and Stella ;)

As always, enjoy!

* * *

"You sure you want to do this?" she asked, suddenly wondering if she had pushed him faster than he was ready to go. 

They stood in front of the movie theater together after work, attempting to go on their first date, nervous and afraid of messing up the one relationship in their lives that had always been right.

Mac nodded. "I kissed you, didn't I?" he replied with a shy smile.

Stella returned the smile, remembering how it had felt to finally feel his lips on hers. Then she became serious again. "That was once, almost a week ago, and you haven't done it since." She sighed and took his hand in both of hers. "I just want to make sure this is what _you_ want, that you aren't doing it because it's what _I_ want."

He leaned down and gently captured her mouth with his. "This is what I want," he smiled as he pulled away.

Stella found herself a tiny bit lightheaded, and grinned happily as the tingly feeling she had begun to associate with him passed through her body. "Well who am I to argue, then?" she giggled.

He chuckled and squeezed her hand, escorting her into the theater and over to the ticket line. They leaned against each other as they discussed what to see, deciding against the latest horror movie or the newest action film.

"How about that one?" Mac asked, pointing to the poster of a sweet-looking romantic comedy.

Stella laughed. "Mr. Marine-turned-NYPD-Detective wants to go see a chick flick?"

"Yeah," he replied, trying to keep the smile from his face as he defended himself. "No blood, no screaming victims, no on-the-edge-of-your-seat moments…just a nice relaxing date movie."

"Won't you be bored?"

He released her hand and slid his arm around her waist. "Not with you."

She giggled again girlishly, resting her head against his shoulder as they continued to wait in line, marveling at how the word 'cute' suddenly seemed to describe him perfectly.

Several minutes later they were finally seated in the theater, ticket stubs in their pockets, popcorn situated between them, holding hands again like timid teenagers. The house lights dimmed as the previews flickered across the projection screen, and Stella glanced over at Mac out of the corner of her eye. He looked so handsome, so happy, and she couldn't help but smile again as she leaned over and pecked his cheek softly.

Mac smiled shyly at her kiss, decidedly thankful for the darkness when he felt an embarrassed warmth creeping up his neck and into his face. A mixture of emotions flowed through him, the embarrassment blending with happiness and guilt as he discreetly studied Stella's profile. His heart actually ached as he sat beside her in the theater, loving her more than he had thought he would ever love a woman again, all the while missing Claire just as intensely.

Stella noticed the conflict playing out on his features, his forehead wrinkled in thought that had nothing to do with the movie. A memory floated through her mind of a story he had once told her, of his first date with Claire. They had gone to the movies as well, and Stella knew it had to be hard for him to sit with her now, no matter how he felt about her. She squeezed his hand gently and rubbed his arm, speaking to him without words as she often did, letting him know that she was there to help him through the transition.

Mac squeezed her hand back appreciatively, the pain on his face breaking long enough to reveal another small smile. If he had been out with any other women he'd have already left the theater, unwilling to deal with the feelings and memories that this new relationship was dredging up. But it was different with Stella. He would do _anything_ for her, including this. It might not work, they might not get happily ever after together, but for Stella he had to try.

When the movie ended the pair rose from their seats, and Stella allowed Mac to help her with her coat, trying to suppress another girlish giggle. They strolled slowly out of the theater to the car, holding hands, brushing fingers across cheeks, taking each other's arms, maintaining some form of bodily contact as they moved.

The uncertainty was still evident in Mac's eyes and Stella once again worried that she may have pushed him too fast, despite the tender touches. When they arrived at her building, he walked her up to her apartment and allowed her to pull him inside, not wanting to say his good-byes in the hallway. The two stood together, gazing at each other with clasped hands, each trying to read the other's expression.

"I had a good time tonight," Stella smiled softly, delivering the classic end-of-date line.

Mac mirrored her smile. "Me too," he replied. He brushed a curl of hair back from her face and leaned in, but hesitated, guilt edging into his consciousness once again.

She rested her forehead against his and ran a hand over his face. "It's okay, Mac," she whispered. "If you're not ready, you don't have to…"

"We had this discussion," he chided quietly, some of the old twinkle returning to his eyes. "This is what I want, too."

He pushed the guilt away and bridged the space between them, his lips finding hers in a warm kiss. It wasn't deep or passionate or long, but it was theirs. And that, at least for the moment, was all they needed.


	7. First Confession

A/N: I'm back! My trip to Manhattan was fantastic...I'm exhausted now, after so much walking in _such_ cold weather, but what a good time! I will admit, though that I thought of Mac when we visited Ground Zero (and the real-life people who went through what he went through)...and that every time we got on the subway I peeked out the window to see if there was anything on the tracks ;)

Anyway, here's the next in the line of firsts for Mac and Stella, with at least a few more still to come. Enjoy!

* * *

He had been looking at her funny all day. 

Stella was working with Mac on a case and noticed how several times that day he had looked over at her as though there was something he wanted to say to her. Once or twice he even opened his mouth to say whatever it was that was on his mind, but then thought better of it and closed it again.

_It must be something personal, _Stella thought. The two of them had agreed that while on duty, in the confines of the lab or at a crime scene, they would treat each other strictly as colleagues and friends. Anything romantic or otherwise out of the ordinary would have to wait for a more appropriate time and place in order to maintain the integrity of the lab. _Which means I'll have to wait until after work to figure out what's going on in that brain of his._

She pressed her lips together and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was focused on pulling a bullet out of a wall as carefully as possible, gently coaxing it from the plaster with an expression of pure concentration that Stella always found so sexy. She shook her head a little and allowed a small smile to form on her lips before turning back to the blood smear she had been inspecting. Waiting was not going to be easy today.

When end of their shift finally did arrive, Stella's curiosity was bursting at the seams. She discreetly waited for him in the locker room, slowly pulling her hair from its pony tail and running her fingers through it before tugging on her jacket.

Just as she was about to walk out the door, Mac walked in. "Perfect timing," he smiled.

She nodded. "Yeah, you can walk me to the subway station."

"Why don't you let me drive you home?" he asked, opening his locker and removing his overcoat.

This time she shook her head. "My apartment is out of your way, and you need to go home and get some sleep. Besides, I don't have the patience to deal with traffic at the moment."

"Okay," he chuckled. "When you put it that way…"

They headed out into the chilly winter air, clasping hands almost as soon as they were clear of the building, walking along in comfortable silence. When they reached Stella's subway station, though, the pair paused, smiling shyly into each other's eyes as they began their good-byes.

"You're sure you won't let me drive you home?" Mac asked, turning toward her and taking her free hand in his.

Stella took a step closer to him and grinned. "No," she repeated. "'Cause I'll invite you in, and you'll say yes, and we'll stay up entirely too late keeping each other company."

His eyes twinkled as he replied, "Is that so terrible?"

"No," she laughed. "But you really do need to get some sleep, Mac. Between work and me, you're not getting enough rest and I won't have that."

The smile on his lips grew. "Okay boss. I promise I'll go home and go straight to bed."

They shared another laugh and Stella leaned forward, her mouth finding his in a soft kiss. She was still smiling when she pulled back, but the expression from earlier in the day returned to his face and she knew there was something on his mind.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

He smiled a little in spite of his racing thoughts. She always knew what was going on with him, even when he didn't say a word. But just as quickly as it came, the smile left and was replaced by a more grim look. "I…I don't…know how to say this," he began hesitantly.

She squeezed his hands reassuringly. "It's okay," she told him. "Whatever it is you can tell me."

He looked into her sparkling eyes and spoke what was in his heart. "I love you Stella."

Her pulse raced at his words and a broad grin crept across her face, but Mac maintained a sad, frowning expression. She took another step closer to him and tried to tone down both her smile and her puzzlement. "Is that so terrible?" she asked, repeating his own question with a half-hearted wink.

"Of course not," he replied, letting out a breath. "I'm so happy I can't even describe it…"

He was sincere about that, she could tell. He really was absolutely ecstatic to be in love with her, but there was something that was holding him back. Rather than probe for details as she so often did on the job, she instead allowed him to collect his thoughts and continue.

After a moment, he did speak again, squeezing her hands both as a sign of affection and to help him verbalize his feelings. "I love you so much, Stella…but…Claire…" He looked down at the sidewalk, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

Her arms slid around him, pulling him to her in a warm embrace. "I know," she whispered in his ear. "I know how much you loved her…how much you still love her… You'll never forget her, Mac, and I wouldn't want you to. I love you for who you are, and Claire's a part of that." She paused, rubbing a hand over his shoulders and kissing his cheek. "I want you to know," she continued softly, "that I'm not trying to replace her."

He pulled away quickly and looked into her eyes. "Oh, Stella, no…I know you aren't…"

She touched his face tenderly and smiled. "I love you," she told him a second time, "and I'll do anything to be with you. Even if it means we need to slow down, or take a break…whatever you need…"

Mac pulled her close again and rested his forehead against hers. "We're going slow enough," he decided, "and I _definitely_ don'twant to take a break. I just need to deal with this myself. But if I'm acting distant or inattentive it isn't because my feelings for you have changed…just be patient with me." He stopped for a moment, letting his lips break into a smile and adding, "…more patient with me than you are with traffic."

"If it was anyone else, Mac, I'd say no," Stella laughed. "But for you I'll give it a shot."

He grinned and kissed her lightly. "Thanks."


	8. First Request

A/N: I had the idea for this one before I went to New York, but visiting Ground Zero made the story much easier to visualize. So, though it wasn't inspired by my visit, it _was_ enhanced by my visit. I just hope I did it justice...but I know you guys will tell me either way ;)

* * *

The subway station that had previously been the closest stop was still out of service, so Stella glanced at the map and chose another a few blocks away. It was cold, but she didn't mind walking. Not for this visit.

She exited the subway tunnel at Battery Park, ascending the stairs and pausing to glance at the familiar buildings and streets. She had always liked Lower Manhattan, liked the feel of the financial district. But since September 11th she didn't come down here much, partly due to her lack of free time, and partly out of the sadness and the little bit of guilt she felt every time she thought of Claire.

_If the Towers hadn't fallen that day, Mac would still be with her…_

She pushed the thought away with an angry shake of her head. It was selfish of her, she knew, to take a tragedy of that magnitude and make it all about her. She began moving again, picking her way through the multitude of construction sites in existence even now in this part of the city, trying to keep clear of the few cars still on the road without falling into a mess of broken pavement.

She found the street she was looking for and turned right, her steps slowing unconsciously as she neared her destination. She had only come here twice before since the dust settled—once after the scene had been rendered safe to pay her respects, and once with Mac when he had confessed to her that he didn't have the strength to come alone. It was this second trip that stood out in her mind, memories flooding back as she drew closer to the site.

Mac walking unsteadily beside her.

His breath catching in his throat as they approached.

Her arm reaching out for him as his knees buckled.

The stricken look on his face.

The anguish in his voice when he whispered Claire's name.

His body clinging to hers for support.

His tears seeping through her shirt as the sobs tore through him.

Stella shuddered and closed her eyes, forcing her feet to carry her forward the last few steps. Her outstretched hand encountered the cold metal of the security fence and she opened her eyes tentatively. She had arrived at Ground Zero.

Outwardly there was little to distinguish this from any of the other construction sites in the area. Debris had been removed and the crater had been stabilized structurally, machinery stood ready for further use, and every few minutes the sound of a subway train traveling through the rebuilt tunnel reverberated off the foundation. In fact, had it not been for the hushed voices of a few tourists and the plaques bearing the names of the victims, Stella would have believed this was just another work area.

Visions of her last visit returned and she leaned her forehead against the fence, trying to maintain her composure. In her mind's ear she could still hear the sounds of Mac breaking down and her grip on the fence tightened as she closed her eyes once again, reminded this was _not_ just another construction project.

"Claire," she whispered softly, "it's Stella. I…I need your help." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Remember the agreement we made way back when Mac and I first became partners at the lab? We promised each other we'd take care of him together, his wife and his friend looking out for him, because when he got wrapped up in a case or a cause he didn't think to look out for himself. Well, since you've been gone," Stella's voice crackled as she spoke making her pause, swallowing hard. "Since you've been gone," she began again, "I've tried hard to keep taking care of him for you…but something happened along the way."

She rolled her forehead slowly over the fence, her cheek meeting the hard steel as she searched for the right words. "Claire, I love him," she continued quietly. "I love him more than I ever thought was possible, and want to be with him. I think he wants to be with me, too, but neither of us can let go of you. He…he still loves you so much, Claire…and I don't want to do anything that would hurt him…or you…"

Stella sighed with grief and frustration. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that Mac needs your blessing to move on, and I do too. We were good friends, you and I, and it would mean a lot to me…and to Mac…if we knew you approved…"

Her grip on the fence loosened and her fingers slid down the metal grating. "He still needs us both Claire…but in different ways now…" She sighed again, this time more softly, bowing her head against the security fence.

"I just want him to be happy."


	9. First Fight

Stella glanced around the restaurant as they talked, waiting for their order to arrive. It was fancy, but not overwhelmingly so, with small sconces on the walls rather than large chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and a moderately priced wine list to go with food they would actually eat. Still, the place required semi-formal attire, and she had been surprised he had wanted to bring her here, since his taste normally ran toward the plain and simple.

He reached across the table and took her hands in his with a shy smile. "What do you think?" he asked.

Stella beamed back at him. "Excellent choice, Detective," she grinned. "This place really is great."

"Well, I'm glad you like it," he replied, the shy smile growing a bit more confident.

The waiter arrived with the wine they had ordered and poured two glasses, casting a disapproving glance at their clasped hands. Mac didn't notice, his mind having finally discovered a way to focus on something other than work when he was alone with Stella. But she noticed and raised an eyebrow at the server. He merely frowned and shook his head faintly when his eyes met hers, and with another brief glance at the couple's hands he turned away to check on another table.

Stella directed her attention to Mac's hands holding hers gently across the table. His wedding band caught the light just right and glinted up at her, making something click in her brain.

_He's wearing a wedding ring, and I'm not wearing any kind of ring,_ she realized. _It looks like we're having an affair…_

She pushed the thought out of her mind and concentrated on what Mac was saying. Who cared what the waiter thought? She and Mac knew the truth and that was enough.

But the critical glanced continued all through dinner, and not just from the waiter. By the end of the evening the couple behind them looked ready to spit venom at the pair when Mac tenderly kissed Stella's cheek as he helped her on with her coat.

She sighed a little and took his arm, allowing him to escort her out of the restaurant and onto the street for the walk home.

"What's wrong?" he asked. His mind may have found a way to relax, but his powers of observation hadn't completely been turned off.

Stella leaned against him, taking his left hand in hers and playing with his ring. "Mac, it's been four and a half years," she told him quietly, trying to be as delicate as possible with the subject. "Why haven't you taken your wedding ring off yet?"

He frowned and looked away. "Come on, Stella, we've been through this. I'm not ready yet."

"It's just..." she sighed again, knowing her words were going to sound petty. "Did you notice the way people were looking at us in the restaurant?"

He shook his head. "How were people looking at us?"

"Like we were doing something wrong," she replied. "You're wearing a wedding ring and I'm not…it looks like we're having an affair…"

Mac frowned again, but met her gaze this time. "Since when do you care what other people think?"

"I don't," she told him. "But we've been seeing each other for a few months now, and you're still wearing your ring. _I'm_ starting to feel like we're having an affair. I feel guilty, like we're sneaking around behind Claire's back…like we _are_ doing something wrong, even though we're not."

"You just need to be patient with me Stella," he said softly.

She squeezed his hand affectionately. "I know…I'm trying. I'll wait as long as it takes. I just," she paused, wondering if she should really articulate her thought. _We've always been honest with each other in the past…_ "I just need to know if there's a light at the end of the tunnel," she finished.

Mac felt himself becoming angry, and he wasn't sure why. "What do you mean?"

"Well, like I said, we've been seeing each other for a few months now, but you still haven't taken off your ring. If we're going to be together, you have to let Claire go eventually…"

"You don't understand, Stella," he told her sharply. "You don't have family, you've never had a boyfriend as close to you as Claire was to me…so you don't know how it feels to lose your soul mate."

His words stung her, and she released his hand. "I don't know how it feels?" she repeated quietly.

"You can't know…" he began.

She stopped him. "You're right," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "I don't _know_ how it feels to lose someone that close to you. I never had a family that loved me, or…or a partner that was close to me…except you. I know how I _would_ feel if I lost you, Mac. I don't know how I'd survive without you. So don't tell me I can't know how much pain you're in, because I _can_ know. I understand what you're going through Mac, because if I lost you, I'd be going through it too. But if you and I are going to be together, you have to make peace with Claire's death. Otherwise," she looked into his blue eyes and lowered her voice to almost a whisper, "otherwise, we'll never make it."

She looked at him silently for a moment longer, then turned and stepped off the sidewalk, hailing a cab.

"Stella, where are you going?" Mac called, following behind.

The taxi pulled up to the curb and she opened the door. "I'm going home," she replied. "This will never work between us until you get things sorted out. And you can't do that with me beside you."

Before he could respond she ducked into the car and sped off, leaving him standing on the curb, stunned and angry…and alone.


	10. First Peace

A/N: I meant to post this the other day when I finished it, but this week has been the definition of _long_, and I was so tired it slipped my mind. But here it is now, and I promise as penance I'll go write another "moment" :-P

* * *

She was right, and he knew it. After he went home to his own apartment and calmed down following their date, Mac had known that Stella was right. He couldn't be with her until had had made peace with Claire's death—he just wasn't the kind of guy that could give his heart to one woman when another still had possession of it.

He sighed and shook his head, knowing there were only two possible solutions to this situation. The first was to continue wallowing, to never see Stella again, and he quickly discarded that idea. He knew in his heart he loved Stella, and he knew his life would be meaningless without her.

"I guess there's only one thing to do, then," he told himself. He walked over to the coat closet and pulled out his winter coat, shrugging it on and heading to the nearest subway station. He might as well go now, he figured. He wouldn't be sleeping much anyway.

The train ride seemed to take forever, but then, it always did when he went to see Claire. He sat on the hard plastic seat and leaned his head back against the window, allowing himself to reminisce.

He remembered their first date—they had planned to go to some upscale restaurant, but had discovered the local movie theater was playing a movie that happened to be both their favorites. So they went to the movies, all dressed up, and Claire had held his hand to keep him from playing with his tie.

He remembered meeting her father for the first time, feeling like a scared teenager again when the big man had opened the door. He had grilled Mac about his livelihood and expectations for life over dinner that night, but had been satisfied in the end. And Claire had beamed an ecstatic smile at her beau from across the table, proud that he had handled himself so well.

He remembered their wedding day, when she wore the same proud smile as she walked down the aisle on her father's arm. She had looked so beautiful, so vibrant, and he had felt truly blessed that she had chosen him.

He remembered the night before the Towers fell, sitting on the couch with her in a rare moment of quiet for them, just soaking in the last remnants of summer weather before the chilly autumn air arrived. Her head lay against his chest, and he could still hear her voice as she asked him what he thought about having children.

The tears began to form in his eyes as he remembered the day she died. He had left the apartment to go out on an assignment before she had woken up, dashing off a quick note and leaving it on his pillow beside her as she slept. He had kissed her forehead softly and whispered "I love you" in her ear before hurrying out the door. It was the last time he ever saw her.

He was crying by the time he reached Ground Zero, not yet sobbing but unable to hold back his tears any longer. Her life had been snuffed out well before its time, for no other reason than her workplace was located in the world's tallest building, which some terrorists had decided to destroy.

Mac bowed his head against the security fence that surrounded what was now an active worksite and let the tears slide down his face.

"I miss you, Claire," he told her gently, gripping the fence in his tightly curled fingers as he squeezed his eyes shut. "I miss you so much…"

He permitted himself to cry, to remember, to grieve for the woman that had been such an important part of his life. He mourned the loss of her life and of their life together, of the children they would never have, of the time they would never spend as a family. He sobbed, almost as hard as he had the first time he had come here with Stella, letting out all the emotions he had kept at bay for all these years.

After a long while he quieted down, the sobs dying on his lips and the flow of tears gradually drying up. He took in a few deep breaths to calm himself, thankful that no one had approached him during his outpouring of sorrow. His grip on the fence loosened and he opened his eyes, forcing himself to look down into the hole that remained where his wife's office building had once been.

"Claire," he began again. "I…I need your advice." He stopped and smiled sadly, continuing, "But I think I already know what you'd say. No, I _know_ I know what you'd say, but I have to ask you anyway. I love you, Claire. I will always love you, but there's another woman in my life now, and I love her _so_ much. You always liked Stella, I know—the two of you would have been friends even without having me in common, so I know if there was anyone you'd want me to be with now, it would be her."

He paused, sniffling a little, brushing a few more tears from his cheeks. "It _is_ Stella…I love her, Claire. Not quite in the same way I loved you, but just as much. But I can't seem to give her my whole heart, and that isn't fair. I want to—so much—but then I think of you…"

He raised his eyes imploringly to the dark sky, finding one solitary star that shone brightly enough to break though the lights of the city. It twinkled at him happily, and though the scientist in him knew it was only an atmospheric disturbance that caused the twinkle, in his soul he knew it was Claire.

And he smiled.


	11. First Reconciliation

A/N: The first part of this section could be considered an alternate viewpoint to my oneshot _Baby Steps_. If you've read it, yay! If you haven't, what are you waiting for? ;-) Seriously, though, the two pieces go well together, but you do not have to have read _Baby Steps_ to understand this one.

A/N 2: I've been seriously remiss in replying to your wonderful reviews--all five of my classes took tests and turned in a bunch of stuff last week, and I've been drowning in things to grade until today. But let me just say a general thank you--at least for the moment--to everyone who has left reviews. I'm blushing to the roots of my hair--you guys are spoiling me big time!

Now go read :-D

* * *

Stella and Mac actively avoided each other in the days that followed their first fight, both too stubborn to admit that there was no winning this argument. They spoke to each other only when necessary, and only about matters regarding the Lab. 

Then a few days into the standoff, Mac had arrived at work a changed man. Even the other CSIs noticed the difference, though no one could figure out what it was. Nor did they ask, knowing instinctively that it was something personal and that if Mac wanted them to know, he would tell them.

Stella headed toward his office that afternoon, needing to consult him on a matter pertaining to the case she was working. She was reading though a lab report as she walked and almost knocked down a tech halfway to his office, deciding then that she had better pay attention to where she was going. She lifted her eyes from the folder she carried and spotted Mac in his office, standing behind his desk as she knew he would be. Something in his demeanor was unusual, though, and her instincts told her to wait a moment before going in.

She paused in the hallway and watched him staring down at his wallet, wondering what it was he was doing. She wracked her brain for the contents of that wallet, having gone through it several times herself. It wasn't until he set the wallet down on his desk and began twisting his wedding band that Stella knew what he was so fixated on. He was looking at the picture of Claire he kept with him, twisting his ring the way he did sometimes when he was thinking particularly deep thoughts.

As she watched, Mac stopped twisting his ring and gently slid it off his finger. Stella read his lips as he placed the ring in his wallet with the picture, seeing the sadness in his eyes as he told Claire "I love you". He paused a moment longer, taking in the sight of his wedding band in a new resting place for the first time, then folded his wallet up and placed it back in his pocket.

When he looked up from his desk, his eyes met Stella's and he smiled softly. She returned the smile with all the love in her heart spoken in her eyes, and the two of them silently apologized to each other from across the lab.

They didn't, however, get to actually talk to each other at all the rest of the day. Mac, of course, ended up working a double shift and Stella herself wound up staying lat into the night, scrutinizing evidence for a different case in an effort to put away the bad guys.

In the middle of the night she lay in bed in her apartment, having finally drifted off to sleep, only to be awoken by a loud banging on her door.

"Stella!" a male voice called. "It's me…open up…"

Her sleep-numbed brain tried to think rationally as she crawled out of bed and flipped on the living room light. "Mac? Is that you?" She peered though the peephole and unlocked the door, swinging it open with confusion. "What are you doing here?"

He wore an apologetic but pleased smile as he stepped into her apartment. "I'm sorry I woke you up…I know how late you stayed tonight, and how little sleep you were going to get _without_ me knocking on your door at three in the morning, but this couldn't wait."

She closed and locked the door behind him, turning to face him with a concerned expression on her face. "What? What is it that couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

"I love you, Stella," he told her, smiling as he spoke.

She smiled, pink creeping into her cheeks. "You over here in the middle of the night to tell me you love me?"

He nodded. "And because of this…" He held his left hand in front of her eyes, waiting for her to discover the missing piece of the puzzle.

She took his hand in hers and inspected it more closely, forcing her mind to think clearly. Then she noticed the faint tan line on his third finger where a gold band used to sit and remembered the moment in his office earlier that day. "You took it off," she said quietly, her eyes shifting to his.

He nodded again, more slowly this time. "I took it off."

Stella instantly felt guilty, wondering for the thousandth time in their relationship if she had pushed him into something he wasn't ready for, and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could get the words out, though, Mac interrupted.

"It was time," he said. "You were right the other night, Stella. You and I can't be together until I come to terms with Claire's death and get things sorted out."

She turned his hand over and squeezed it. "And you were right that night, too. I do need to be patient with you. It's hard to let go of someone so close to you." She paused and glanced down at their hands clasped together. "You're sure about this?"

"I'm positive. And so is Claire. We sorted some things out." He slid his arms around her and pulled her to him, his lips grazing her ear. "I love you," he whispered.

She felt the tingly feeling he always gave her begin to spread over her body and smiled, holding him tightly as she rested her cheek against his. "I love you too."

They remained still for a few moments, until Stella's wisecracking side decided to make its presence known. "So are we gonna kiss and make up?" she asked with a smirk. "'Cause I need to get back to sleep…"

Mac leaned in and kissed her gently, savoring the feeling of her mouth on his. When he pulled away, he grinned a little himself. "You know, I might take offense to that if I was anybody else," he chuckled. "You're lucky I love you so much."

Her smile softened and she kissed him again. "I know."


	12. First Night

A/N: I had planned on updating sooner, but boy how time flies when you have massive stacks of papers to grade! ;-) _And_ I still haven't gotten to my individual thank-yous yet. Bad Zelda! Bad! You all deserve so much thanks, too, for leaving me such fabulous reviews. I said it before, and I'll say it again--you guys spoil me! I think, though, that this "first" and the next one will make up for any pain and suffering my lapses may have caused :-P

Enjoy!

* * *

He drove her home like he did every other day. 

They had worked the same shift that day, and as had become his custom, Mac drove Stella home after they finished up at the lab. It was a gesture he could make without casting undue suspicion on their relationship, even though most of their colleagues knew that they were together. He could keep her safe for an hour longer, and spend more time with the woman he loved when time was in such short supply.

When they arrived at her apartment, Stella invited him up like she always did and asked him to stay for dinner. It didn't matter that it was 11:30 at night or that they would probably be eating leftover Chinese food from the last time he drove her home. It was still the third meal of their day, and they both had to eat. Why not eat together? She could help him relax if only for an hour or two, make his life a little brighter when he certainly brightened hers.

They piled their plates high, Stella shuffling into the living room and plopping onto the couch with her cold almond chicken, while Mac elected to heat up his chow mein in the microwave. A few minutes later he settled down beside her, smiling happily and kissing her cheek gently as she munched on her food.

"So what's on tonight?" he asked, picking up the TV remote. They might fight over it later, but with plates of food in their laps he knew he could control the television for at least a few minutes.

She watched as he slowly flipped through the channels, dropping her fork onto her plate and laying a hand on his arm when she spotted a show she liked. "Ooo, that one! Go back!"

He grinned and hit the opposite button on the remote until he found the one she was looking for. "This?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed excitedly. "This is my favorite movie…"

"_Sleepless in Seattle_, huh?" He mulled that one over for a moment. "A chick flick?"

"An old chick flick," she confirmed. "It's beautiful…meeting at the top of the Empire State Building…at night…love at first site… It's so romantic…"

Mac chuckled. "We've never been to the Empire State Building," he reminded her.

She shook her head. "We don't need to. Cold takeout on my couch is all the romance I need, as long as you're here with me," she grinned.

He grinned again and leaned down, brushing his lips softly over hers. "You're right," he told her in a low voice, "this is the best part of my day."

She smiled girlishly and kissed him again. "See? I knew you'd agree."

The pair went back to their meal, polishing off the leftovers and placing the plates out of the way on the floor so they could cuddle up together and enjoy the movie. Two hours later, Stella got her romantic Empire State Building moment and _Sleepless in Seattle_ ended happily, as every romantic comedy seemed to do. Mac sighed internally and unwound his arm from her shoulders, picking up the plates and carrying them into the kitchen. She followed and sighed too, knowing that this was the part of the evening where he helped her clean up before he went back to his place.

They puttered around the kitchen for a few minutes, rinsing off the plates and discarding the empty take-out containers as slowly as possible, trying to postpone the inevitable. Then, as always, he slid his arms around her waist from behind and rested his cheek against hers, kissing the warm skin of her neck and working his way down her shoulder. She smiled the smile only his touch could bring to her lips and turned in his arms.

"I guess I better go," he whispered in her ear, using the same phrase he used every night they ate dinner together.

"Yeah," she replied as usual, playing with his hair. She reached up and kissed him slowly, smiling at the feel of his mouth on hers, the way he held her, the taste of chicken chow mein on his tongue.

He pulled her closer, his hand gliding over her back and up to her face where he brushed a curl from her forehead as he drew reluctantly away. His gaze met hers and he couldn't resist kissing her again, unwilling and perhaps unable to let her go yet.

When their lips finally did part, Stella discovered a look in Mac's eyes that she hadn't seen before. He never wanted to leave her at the end of the evening, but tonight his eyes proclaimed that not only did he not want to leave, he was ready to stay.

She smiled at him, half playfully, half seriously, raising her eyebrows as she silently asked him the question she was turning over in her mind.

He answered her question gently, in the thin-lipped half-smile that was his trademark, and knew that this night would be different from all the others.

Stella's smile widened as she slipped her arms from his shoulders and took his hand, leading Mac not to the door to say good-bye, but out of the kitchen and down the hall, toward the bedroom.


	13. First Morning

A/N: So this is it, the end of the world as we know it...or at least, the end of _Firsts_ as we know it ;-) This is as far as I've gotten in my mind with Mac and Stella, so this is where the story must end. I also have another fic burning a hole in my brain, and with school still in full swing, I only have time to write one at a time. Never fear, though--our favorite couple will be making appearances in the new fic (called _Hanging By A Moment _and coming soon to a computer near you), and there are already rumblings in my head of a possible sequal to _Firsts_, so stay tuned!

A/N 2: I can't say good-bye without giving all of you a big, huge, happy-happy-joy-joy, jumping up and down with excitement **thank** **you**! The reviews have been wonderful--absolutely amazing! You guys sure know how to send a girl on a serious ego trip, lol. But if you had half as much fun reading as I did writing, then you are in a very good place because I had a blast. And I can't wait to do it again :-P

* * *

He awoke to the sound of quiet breathing in his ear and the rustle of bouncy curls on the pillow beside him. Mac smiled without opening his eyes, turning over and wrapping an arm around the woman snuggled up against his back. Her scent tickled his nose and he slid a hand over the soft skin of her arm, pulling her close to him and nuzzling her neck gently enough not to wake her just yet. 

He thought about getting out of bed and wandering into the kitchen to start breakfast, knowing what kind of eater Stella was and how sexy she thought he was when he did anything domestic. His smile widened, eyes still closed, as he pictured the look on her face when she found him flipping pancakes at her stove dressed in her bathrobe. But then she shifted a little next to him, a small sigh escaping her red lips, turning him into a puddle of helpless goo.

_Breakfast can wait_, he decided, planting a tender kiss on her shoulder. _I'm not leaving this bed without her._

He lay there for almost an hour, holding her in his arms, absorbing the heat emanating from her body, listening to the peaceful rhythm of her breathing, taking in every detail of her beautiful face with his hungry eyes as the sunlight tried to break through the heavy material of her curtains. He felt relaxed lying next to her, closer to happy than he had been in a very long time.

Lying beside Stella, Mac felt at home.

Finally she began to stir, the pattern of her breathing altering slightly as she came back to consciousness, her head turning to bury itself in his shoulder away from the light. He grinned and pulled her more tightly against him, kissing her neck as he slid a hand through her hair.

"Good morning, beautiful," he whispered in her ear.

She mumbled something in reply, but her face was still pressed against his shoulder and her words were muffled.

"What?" he asked, drawing back a bit so he could hear her more clearly.

She lifted her eyes to his and smiled sleepily. "I said, 'I don't want it to be morning'," she repeated.

"Why not?"

Stella's hand glided slowly across his back, noticing that her heart beat just a little bit faster as her fingers encountered his strong, defined muscles. "Because," she said, "that would mean last night was over with."

Mac blushed—actually felt the warmth creeping up into his cheeks—and focused on her lips instead of her eyes. "It also means that another night is coming."

"I like the way you think," she laughed, leaning in to kiss him.

The pair remained cuddled up together in bed for a few moments longer before being rousted by the buzzing of Stella's alarm clock.

"Time to get up," she sighed.

He nodded and kissed her again. "The world is waiting."

They reluctantly dragged themselves out of bed, Stella pulling Mac's shirt on over her bare shoulders, giggling as Mac slipped into her fuzzy purple robe. His arm snaked around her waist and she leaned against him, allowing him to lead her into the kitchen. She kissed him briefly as they parted, opening a cupboard to take out a box of cereal. Before she could, though, his large hand came to rest on her shoulder.

"I think we can do better than that," he told her in a low voice, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

She laughed at the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach and turned to face him. "You do know we have to be at work by four this afternoon…"

"Why does that matter?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Because," she purred, wrapping her arms around him, "it may take us all day just to get through breakfast."

He chuckled, nuzzling her neck as his mind wandered over the possible ways they could spend their time before their shift began. _Don't look now, Taylor_, a little voice inside his head smirked, _but I think you've loosened up_.

He chuckled again and kissed Stella, long, deep, and slow, leaving her breathless and stunned when he drew away.

"Wow," she breathed, her eyes still closed to savor the feeling of his mouth on hers.

Mac grinned. "Now why don't you have a seat here," he suggested, guiding her over to the kitchen table and sitting her down in one of the chairs, "and I'll get breakfast."

He turned from her and headed back into the kitchen, pulling open the refrigerator and retrieving a carton of eggs. Stella's eyes followed him as he moved to the pantry for the loaf of bread, the fuzzy purple robe swishing with him as he worked. He bent down to get a frying pan from one of the lower cupboards and she found herself leaning a bit to her right for a better view, laughing silently at herself for checking him out.

In no time flat, Mac had the frying pan loaded with French toast and stood over the stove, diligently scrutinizing his projects as they turned various shades of brown. Stella sat and watched him concentrate on the food with the same focus he had when examining evidence, the expression and intensity she found so attractive. She smothered a smile as a rather irreverent thought floated through her mind.

_Breakfast isn't the only yummy thing around here this morning_, she giggled to herself. _Who knew Mac looked so good in a purple women's bathrobe?_

He carefully flipped the pieces of French toast over one by one and Stella rose from her chair, sidling up next to him and brushing a hand over the fluffy material that covered his arm. He grinned and continued to mind the frying food while draping his free arm around her, bringing a blissful smile to her lips.

Standing there with Mac, Stella felt at home.


End file.
